Their Last Dance
by smacked lover 22
Summary: Henry finds Catherine in the gardens following Mary and Francis's wedding and finds himself longing for one last dance with his Italian bride.


**AN: Catherine's real name was Caterina and she only changed it to Catherine when she moved to France because Caterina was too Italian.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Reign or any of its characters and if I did Henry would certainly not have died.**

Catherine de Medici straightened the wrinkled skirts of her gown as she sat atop a large rock on the palace grounds, her head ached so in her loneliness she forgot etiquette removing the bejeweled clip from her hair and allowing her golden locks to tumble over her shoulders and thinking little of the cost placed the diamond piece carelessly atop the rock.

Her eldest son had been wed only hours ago but her achy head could not endure the drunken laughter which filled the palace ballrooms. She let out an amused chuckle wondering when she had gotten so old, as a girl she had loved balls, masques any cause for celebration pleased the young princess for she found nothing quite so endearing as being twirled through the ballroom by her devoted young husband but she was no longer a frivolous young girl and Henry well he was no longer quite so devoted.

With a bitter smile she downed the last remnants of her champagne and placed the lute beside her hair clip, it had been some time since she had last worn her hair down but even as she neared forty she still adored the sensation of her long tresses tickling her bare flesh. The feeling of hair on her bare skin seemed like the embodiment of youth taking her back to happier times when she and Henry would steal a bottle of wine from the kitchen and sneak off to the lake, she always dressed comfortably in his presence forgoing her court dresses for cotton summer gowns and the two would simply sit watching the water and sipping sweet Italian wine.

From inside the palace she could hear the faint sound of laughter mixed with the notes of a Volta she knew it was terribly improper for the Queen of France to sneak from her son's wedding ceremony but Francis would be consumed with his new bride, her younger children were being attended by their governess and Henry well he had Diane to entertain him. The Queen absent mindedly kicked her shoes from her feet running her toes along the sharp blades of grass, the summer heir was cool against her bare skin and forgetting all regality she rose from her rock.

It had been years since she last danced but she felt a sudden yearning as the sound of the orchestra spilled from the palace windows, scanning the horizon to make sure no one was near she extended her bare foot the way her dance instructor had shown her when she was a girl and carefully leapt dancing a few steps as she amused herself with the eloquent turns and small jumps of the French dance.

She had been a hopeless dancer with a child causing her tutor many headaches with her clumsiness and it has not been until she came to France she learned the true art of dancing, it had been Henry who taught her, not so much to dance as to follow to allow someone else to lead. A skill she had long forgotten.

She jumped upon hearing a giggle and released her skirts, straightening up as her usual look of annoyance returned to her face and from behind the corner Henry appeared, the Lady Kenna pulling on his arm as the sound of her inebriated laughter filled the dusky air.

"Majesty" she stammered upon seeing the queen.

"Catherine" Henry said shortly.

"Husband" she replied.

"What are you doing here" he inquired "you should be inside."

"My head ached" she answered "but do not worry I shall not interrupt you, proceed with your harlot."

She strode towards the rock gathering her belongings as she avoided her husband's gaze, she could not bear to look into his eyes they were always so filled with regret, regret and confusion it pained her to look upon the man whom had sworn to her his eternal devotion especially while his hand still remained intertwined with the Lady Kenna's.

"Kenna you are dismissed" the king ordered.

"But majesty…."

"Leave" he snapped and biding his command his young lover gathered her skirts turning towards the palace as her figure disappeared into the darkness.

"How impressive you are to forsake your whore for one night" the queen jested.

"Catherine" he whispered "what has happened to us? Do you not remember who we used to be, what we used to be?"

"I remember a prince and a princess" she replied "but they had to become a king and a queen we are old now Henry no longer carefree children."

"Did tonight not stir anything in you" he mused "any sentiment for once years ago it was us before that alter."

"Sentimental me" she scoffed "do I strike you as a sentimental woman."

"Yes" he replied "for if you were not you would be enjoying the merriment of our son's wedding yet you are here dancing in the same gardens we used to dance."

"I was not dancing" she answered avoiding his eyes "I needed air as I said my head aches."

"You are not wearing any shoes" he returned "you are not wearing any shoes for all those years ago I suggested you go barefoot, to learn the steps."

"What do you want Henry" she snapped, she had meant to sound formidable but a small break sounded in her voice as if she was willing herself not to cry.

A thousand answers swirled in his head, what did he want; he wanted her, her, their children, their family, he wanted his princess back and most of all he wanted to be the prince once again, the boy she had fallen for not the hardened man life had made him yet it seemed too much to ask of her. They had heart each other, broken each other and come back a thousand times over for the same unhealthy cycle yet in that moment he could not possibly ask her to throw herself in it again. Maybe their love was ill fated, maybe all she could ever be was a happy memory.

"A dance" he replied "one last dance."

"Do you not have your women to dance with" she scoffed.

"I do" he whispered "but you asked me what I wanted and that is it one last dance with my queen."

The fast paced tune died down as the orchestra began with a slower song, soft and romantic just like the tunes he used to hum when they danced alone in the palace gardens.

"Alright my king" she whispered extending her hand as his lips caressed the delicate flesh and as was customary he fell to a deep bow accompanied by her curtsy as they fell into the slow pace of the dance.

It had been some time since she last danced but the grace never left her as she took a small leap, his hands grasping her petite waist as he lifted her according to the beat.

The cool wind toyed with her lose curls and she no longer looked like the weary queen but his Italian bride, young and so desperately in love with him.

He knew she was in their the sentience of her youth was buried beneath the cold mask she had been forced to wear, he could see it in her eyes even while her face remained stoic a lone tear has pooled in the corner of her right eyes.

"Catherine" he whispered he lowered her placing her feet atop the ground but dared not inch back allowing their lips to hover mere centimeters away from each other.

"I believe our dance is over my lord" she stated calmly as the music died down.

"You are beautiful" he murmured "you were always beautiful Catherine my love, my Italian duchess."

"I am not your duchess" she whispered "not any more, Caterina is dead you killed her we both did. We can never be those children again."

"Maybe we don't need to be" he replied his index finger daring to trace her jaw bone caressing her as lightly as possible for somehow in the dim light of the moon, the very mood they had danced under so many years ago he felt unworthy of her "if Caterina is dead allow me to love Catherine."

"Sometimes I wonder if anyone could love Catherine" she scoffed.

"I could" he answered his warm breath tickled her flesh "I loved Caterina and I could love Catherine if you let me."

He leaned in pressing his warm lips to her cool ones, a mere touch passionless and timid as if they were two children ill versed in the ways of romance but after a moment she leaned in daring to deepen their kiss and for once they were not the king and queen but the two love struck teenagers whom had shared hidden kisses in the garden years ago, just for that one night under the pale glisten of the moon she was his Caterina.


End file.
